Government Hire
by timbom
Summary: Based on BMW Films The Hire series, the driver is given a top secret job by the U.S. However, he must rely on more than his skills behind the wheel to survive this one.


-1CH 1: Job For Hire

The silky black vehicle cut through the road with ease, regardless of the ice and snow covering the ground. The man behind the car, eyes fixated on the road, made every precise shift and every precise turn all in perfect harmony with each other.

It was the first time the driver had ever been in Russia, and he had to admit that, regardless of the bitter cold outside, it was a lovely country. Specifically the roads. Neither too challenging nor too easy to deal with, they straddled the "just right" line in his book.

The driver checked his mirrors to make sure that no one was following him then adjusted the cabin temperature, his black leather driving glove almost completely blending in with the rest of the cars interior.

He was extremely close to his destination. The call he had earlier meant that he would have to meet in a remote area, basically in the middle of nowhere. As he rolled up to the little wooden cottage nearly engulfed by the trees, he replayed the phone conversation in his head.

"Hello?"

"_I'm looking for a driver. And we're told that you're the best in the business."_

"That would depend on who you're talking to, now wouldn't it. Who are you."

"_Well, that would depend on your interest in the job I have in store for you, now wouldn't it?"_

The man on the other line chuckled a bit at this. The driver noted that wit wasn't a high mark on this mans credentials.

"_We do need a driver, but tell me, what other skills do you possess other than behind the wheel?"_

"Nothing as spectacular as that, but I can hold my own. What kind of job are we talking about?"

"_Do you accept the job or not?"_

"I'm going to need more information. And so far you've been doing nothing but waste my time."

There was a slight pause on the other line.

"_Will you meet?"_

The driver himself gave a slight pause as well, thinking over the endless possibilities of what could or could not happen, and made his decision.

"Where?"

"_That I can't say over the phone, but there is a map."_

"A map?"

"_Yes. We just so happened to plant one in the room you're occupying now."_

"Where?"

"_In a plant."_

The man chuckled yet again, and the driver just shook his head slightly.

"_It's located in the one closest to your closet door. Meet me at the location in five hours, and make sure you're not followed."_

And that was the end of the conversation. True to the mans word, the map was wrapped in a plastic bag on the bottom of the plant.

He stepped out of the car and activated the alarm system. Regardless of the fact that it was a remote destination, the driver always had an unmatched care and concern for his vehicles. After all, it's how he paid the bills.

He cautiously approached the cabin, his eyes covered by the dark glasses, but moving about the place to try and find anything out of the ordinary.

When he felt secure enough, he entered. The cabin was hot, with a hint of fresh pine lingering in the air. About half a dozen maps were pasted against the wall, some of them charting the surrounding forest, but most of them being other parts of Russia and those having been high-lighted in black and red marker. And other than some kitchen appliances and a large table in the middle of the room with papers strewn across it, it was pretty empty.

He closed the door as quietly as he could, and took a few more steps into the room.

"I'll be out in just a minute!" a voice said from behind the door across the room.

Seconds later, a short, round man with a receding hairline emerged, wiping his hands with a paper towel.

"Well hello there." he said as he adjusted his thick spectacles.

"You the one I spoke with over the phone?" the driver asked.

"You'd be correct." he replied as he extended his hand, which the driver shook.

"The name's General Phillips. Bt you can call me Bob."

"You're a General?"

"Ever since 1986, and I haven't looked back since. Well, come on in and make yourself comfortable."

The driver took off his jacket and had a seat while the General made his way over to the stove where a pot was steaming and stirred the contents around a bit.

Picking up a cup, he poured some of the liquid in.

"You want some?" he asked.

"What is it?"

"Government-issue hot chocolate."

"Government-issue?"

"Yeah." he responded while turning around, two cups in hand. "Maybe not exactly what you'd be used to, but it does the job. Plus, it's piping hot."

The General sat down opposite the driver and slid him the cup.

"But I didn't invite you here to talk to you about rations. No, indeed not. Us U.S. boys got a job for you."

"I'm listening." he replied, taking a sip of the soupy drink. It was as the general said, extremely hot and bitter-sweet at best.

"Well, to start off with, it's a rescue mission."

"A rescue mission? I'm a driver."

"Of course you are." the General retorted. "But you have done a couple missions similar to this and all successful. Don't deny it, we have some files on those 'driving missions'."

The driver held his tongue. He knew he was right.

"And besides, there's more driving to this mission than anything else. But there is an important hostage that needs retrieval."

"What would be my pay." the driver asked.

"$400,000 now, and another when the job's complete. Plus, we'll cover any expenses you have to cover."

"And who's my target?"

At that, the General took a crumpled picture out of his breast pocket and slid it across the table to the driver. He picked it up and looked at it.

"And why do you need me to do this? Can't your own people get the job done?"

"Well, there's a lot of politics around it. We would, but she's here in Russia and the talks between government are taking too long. Another reason is that soldiers are hard to come by these days and you were, conveniently, only a short distance away when we considered you. Besides, it's a one man job."

The driver looked at the picture again, than fixed his gaze back at the General.

"And where is she?"

"Here in Russia. Just a few miles away from the border to be more precise."

"My opposition."

The General leaned back in his chair slightly.

"She's actually being held by a Russian billionaires son and their private army. They all hold a strong hatred for Americans and this is their response for losing the Cold War. Their numbers are about 60 strong, but it's sloppy at best. Poorly managed if you ask me."

The driver took one final look at the picture, than put it in his pocket.

"So, do you accept?" the General asked?

The driver gave a slight pause prior to answering.

"It's for a good cause, and it's a challenge. I'll do it."

The General smiled, stood up, and extended his hand once more which the driver repeated.

"It's an honor to shake the hand of the man daring enough to rescue the presidents daughter." the General said.


End file.
